Chapter Text
Cullen stood on the deck of the ship, feeling the cool ocean air fill his lungs and clear his head. He didn't dare cast his eyes lower than the horizon to the water that tossed the boat around, sending his dinner tumbling in his stomach. Nor did he dare look behind him just yet at the far off docks of Kirkwall and their looming twin statues, a testament of the horror that he had left behind. He knew he would be better off if he went to his quarters under the deck, but the idea of locking himself away in the small space for the remainder of the journey made him uneasy. So instead he chose to stay in his spot on the deck, leaning on the railing to counter his unsteady legs.
"How you holding up Curly?" He heard from behind him. He could barely nod acknowledgement to Varric as the dwarf approached before a particularly rough role of the ocean around them caused him to blanch, gripping the railing so tightly the skin of his knuckles nearly cracked.
"That good?" Varric chuckled. Though they could barely even be called acquaintances during Cullen's time in Kirkwall the dwarf had proven himself to be good company thus far.
"Sea travel does not agree with me," The Templar stated, as he attempted to get better footing on the slippery deck. "I did not expect to need to do so again, at least not for quite some time."
"Maybe be you'd be better off below the deck? I rounded up a few of the sailors and refugees for a game of wicked grace later tonight, you're welcome to join us."
"Perhaps another time. I... I enjoy the stars." Cullen lied, not wanting to explain his distaste for small places to the dwarf.
"Fair enough, offer stands if you change your mind. Maker knows you could do to wind down a bit," the dwarf said, taking his leave with a shrug.
Hours pass, just staring out to the horizon, ignoring the itch under his skin and the ache behind his eyes. It had been four years since the chantry explosion, four years since his Knight Commander lost what was left of her mind and he stood beside the Champion, but it had only been two months since his last taste of lyrium. Just the thought of it makes his body tingle. Just a little, just to hold me over until the ship docks. Just enough to end the pain and no more. I'll stop after, no more after the ship docks…
"Pardon?" He said, snapping out of his thoughts with a bit of a start when he realized someone else was trying to talk to him. He looked at the other man who stared at him with a raised eyebrow. He almost couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed over this gorgeous new stranger. His skin looked smooth and soft and perfectly tan, a contrast to the light, scar tattered skin of his own. His eyes were gray as the storm clouds that had started gathering in the sky above them. His full lips twitched slightly in amusement under a ridiculously styled mustache that should not have looked as enticing as it did. He held something out towards Cullen. "Um, I w-what?" Cullen stuttered with a blush, realizing he missed what the had said again.
"Candied ginger," the man explained with a lilting accent that Cullen recognized as Tevinter. "You seem to take to sea travel no better than I, it should help with the nausea."
Cullen eyed the small pouch in the Tevinter's hand before shaking his head slightly. He could tell the man was a mage, even if he wasn't taking the lyrium anymore, he could still sense the magic just under the others skin. The man's face fell a bit as he withdrew his hand but he quickly recovered with a dazzling smile.
"How rude of me," the man says bowing slightly. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Tevinter. You looked a tad out of sorts I thought you could use some company, but I see perhaps I was wrong."
"And you thought I would want the company of a Magister?" Cullen couldn't help the scowl on his face as he spoke. He also couldn't help feeling a bit guilty at the venom in his voice as the gorgeous man across from him seemed to deflate a bit as he let out a sigh. He couldn't quite read his expression, and silently cursed himself. This isn't how you should treat him, just because he's a mage! You want to be better than that, you ARE better than that.
"I apologize," He said, tearing his eyes from the mage, Dorian. "That was... Unworthy of me."
"No harm done!” Dorian replies with a bit too much false cheer. “I expected no less when I decided to come south. That being said I am no Magister. not everyone from the Imperium is a Magister here to steal away your children in the middle of the night for unspeakable blood rituals. Though I am a bit curious as to how you know I'm a mage..."
Cullen's eyes flick up to meet with grey ones for a moment before staring back over the ocean. He considers just ignoring the man, not sure he wanted to talk about himself to this stranger, but what harm could be had just talking to him. It was unlikely they would meet again once they made it back to land.
"I am, was, a Templar."
"Was? So you left the order?" Dorian asked, leaning next to Cullen on the railing with his head cocked in curiosity, pointedly not looking out towards the tossing waves of the ocean.
"I, yes, that is, I-I was stationed in Kirkwall..." He gripped tightly at the railing his jaw set as he tried to find words. It proved to be unnecessary as the mage cut him off.
"I see, say no more. This is obviously a sensitive subject. I should not have asked. I'm assuming this is the reason you are traveling to Ferelden? I noticed your accent, are you returning home?"
"I am returning with an acquaintance who offered me a chance to do good work. While I do still believe in the order I believe it is flawed, I can do better elsewhere. I do have family in Ferelden but I do not expect to see them for some time if at all. I did not ever expect to return," Cullen paused, realizing he never introduced himself. He began to reach his hand to the back of his neck but stalled halfway and awkwardly reached forward and offered it to the mage. "I'm Cullen by the way, Cullen Rutherford."
Dorian flashed him another breathtaking smile before grasping his hand. "A pleasure," he practically purred as he leaned in, just the slightest bit, causing Cullen's cheeks to burn. He was saved from trying to sputter out a response by a loud peal of thunder that accompanied increasingly volatile waves rocking the ship. Dorian stumbled a bit as a queasy look washed over his face. Cullen reached out to steady him, but was barely doing any better for himself. Rain started falling heavily on them, quickly soaking through their clothes.
"That is my cue to take my leave Ser Rutherford. Perhaps we can continue our chat of your noble purpose on a later occasion," The mage said, already shivering. He righted himself a bit before bowing his head and turning to take his leave barely leaving Cullen a chance to respond.
"I think I'd like that," Cullen said quietly just barely keeping from stuttering anymore. The grin Dorian shot him over his shoulder as he sauntered away was enough to bring the blonds blush back ten fold. The way he swayed his hips as he walked wasn't helping. Cullen wasn't sure how long he stared after the mage after he walked away but he was already half soaked in rain when he came back to his senses. Maker's Breath he sighed to himself before turning to make his way to his quarters.